


In A Jiffy

by cryptidsarereal



Series: Locked Out Of Your Bathroom Door [2]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: BAMF Lance (Voltron), Bathroom Fluff, Domestic Fluff, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, M/M, Sex, Team Camps
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-14
Updated: 2017-07-14
Packaged: 2018-12-01 22:29:31
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,100
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11496048
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cryptidsarereal/pseuds/cryptidsarereal
Summary: “They’re giving out little square papers, Lance. Mine’s pink. I have to write down my short term, long term goals.”“You’re hiding in the bathroom.” He said once more, for good measure.“Yup, foot up the stall and all that.”He had to ask. “What did you write?”There was a rustling sound on his ear. “Short term: go home soonish. Long term: transfer to another country during team buildings.”





	In A Jiffy

**Author's Note:**

> Okay so I *pig snorts* finally figured out what was all wrong with the spacing. I know, I know. The spaces are too big Zarkon's mega-dick (because he's a big dick, get it? maybe that wasn't the best imagery) could fit in between. I-It's-it's good, I'm good. I figured it out.
> 
> ANYWAYS, Zarkon's mega-dick aside, Thank you so much for every kudos and every comment. I sip my tea in the mornings and look at them; smacking my lips "oh, yeh". not rly, tho, i don't sip tea. r u fkin kiddin me it's SUMMER. i REALLLYYYY tried replying to all your comments, but as soon as i get there with that little line blinking at me like 'get the fuckin words out dude, chop chop' i just turn into a puddle of illiteracy mildly resembling a whining kettle.
> 
> *clears my throat* ayt, here goes

 

* * *

 

 

 

The thing people don’t understand about Lance is that when he’s working, He’s. Fucking. Working. The world ceased to exist. His consciousness flowed out into the aether. He entered the realm of the aesthetes, battled it with the art gods. Came out and emerged out of it like a time traveller. Nobody touched an executive creative director mid-campaign. Concerts were held, podcasts were aired, cute fluffy dogs were modelled in studios. Nobody snuggles up to a ticking time bomb.

His boyfriend learned that the hard way, Keith had tried to coax him out for food and rest once. The nerve. Suffice to say, sparing the gory details here, Keith was kicked out of some privileges. Like real food. And bed. Authorities were forced to intervene. Had he mentioned it only happened ‘once’?

It doesn’t make sense. People knew to stay away from Keith (except Lance— he had level five access), kept five feet radius from Pidge in one of her one-week-all-nighter streaks, wouldn’t dare take whiff out of Hunk’s cooking before serving. And nobody, _nobody_ , bother’s Shiro and Allura. You just… naturally don’t. So how come it’s a different story with Lance?

 _“It started with a chair.”_ Keith’s voice rang out suddenly and Lance had a quiet moment of embarrassment for startling so hard his bluetooth mouse fell off the table, before remembering that he was alone in the room and there’s no one to see it.

“ _This is the most magnificent discarded living room set I’ve ever seen_.” Keith’s voice continued in mock debauchedness. He recorded Juno’s monologues and set it as Lance’s ringtone as pay back. (Long story, it was one of their Hallmark moments). It was meant to annoy him but Lance didn’t mind, he was actually proud his boyfriend was pulling pop culture references. That—and his voice was just… nice.

_“When I see them all running like that, with their things bouncing around in their shorts, I can’t help but picture them naked…”_

Wait for it…

_“All I see is pork swords.”_

Chuckling, Lance reached out to answer the call, not bothering to check the id.

“I can’t believe you waited for ‘pork swords’.” Keith, of course, doesn’t know any social mores and doesn’t greet with ‘hey’ then follows it with terms of endearment.

“Hey, babe,” because Lance, luckily, knows social mores. “I can’t believe you narrate it in your mind when you call.”

“It grows on you. Can’t say I’ve ever wanted to be a teenage girl in the throws of pregnancy, though.”

Lance pulled off his glasses and set in on his keyboard. Yes, glasses, ladies keep your panties on. This papi is taken. He stood up to the window and swept off the curtains.

“Phuket, Thailand!” he cursed, putting the curtains right back where it made it safer for the world. Was that the sun?! That wasn’t just the sun, that was the fucking sun that said people started waking up _friggin years ago_! “Ugh, what year is it?”

“Ah, you’re working, I can hear the subtle ‘get away from me’ in your tone.”

Lance padded to the bathroom and looked at himself in the mirror. Are those fringes in his hair?! For all his beauty regime, if he didn’t come out of an all-nighter like a demigod, then pray tell _what was the point_?

“What do you want?” Excuse the rude tone, he was having a crisis here.

“Wow. Cold. Okay. Don’t worry, my love can see past your flaws.”

He heard the word ‘flaws’ and he was gone. It didn’t have to come to this but Keith left him with no choice, he brought out the bitch in him.

“Continue down this path and I swear to the heavens above, Keith, you’d be sleeping in a cold bed for one month.”

“Okay, okay, I’m sorry.” he sounded legitimately scared. Good.

Lance drew his phone away to look at the screen. Three P.M.

“Shouldn’t you be in the middle of team building? How come you’re on the phone?”

“Well, turns out corporate team buildings are not built for people with survival trainings. They couldn’t stop complimenting me, saying ‘I took out the fun’.”

He smiled. “What did you do?”

“Apparently, ‘bribing’ wasn’t the point of capture the flag. That’s crazy, Lance! Capturing the flag _was the point_ of capture the flag.”

“Mm-hmmm, that’s my boy.”

“Pidge didn’t even resist.”

“Of course she wouldn’t.”

Pidge and Keith had whined about the team building _for days_. Something about being a cut above the other single-celled organisms in their workplace, not that being in a highly payed scientific team isn’t made up of geniuses. The evolved class. Lance had hummed skeptically then, _“I don’t know Pidge, you all shit like normal humans to me.”_ Which was apparently the wrong thing to say, she locked herself in her garage working on some machine to hook unto herself so she wouldn’t ‘have to go the bathroom’. Like going to the bathroom was like doing the grocery. Keith didn’t eat for two days, daring Lance to say that he took a shit like normal humans. Then Lance cooked mac n’ cheese, and the protest was dead and buried.

“So, now what, you’re benched from team building?”

There was a long silence. “Not… exactly.”

“Oh no.”

“I excused myself to the bathroom.”

“Oh no.” Lance knew something like this was going to happen.

“They’re setting up a karaoke outside!”

“You’re hiding in the bathroom. Because of a mic.”

“They’re giving out little square papers, Lance. Mine’s _pink._ I have to write down my short term, long term goals.”

“You’re hiding in the bathroom.” He said once more, for good measure.

“Yup, foot up the stall and all that.”

He had to ask. “What did you write?”

There was a rustling sound on his ear. “Short term: go home soonish. Long term: transfer to another country during team buildings.”

“You’ve been there for one night! Just suck it in for a couple more hours.”

“I’m going to die in another hour. I’m pulling out my boyfriend card.”

Lance sighed. Let it be said that he never turned away from the boyfriend card. “I’ll be there in twenty minutes.”

Keith, in a desperate, hopeless situation, had the audacity to grumble. “Sure, just stay here and get cramped for another twenty minutes— wait, twenty minutes? This place is a five-hour drive from home.” Home, by Keith’s definition, was their run-down apartment by the edge of city. If I could have your attention, folks, here we see an exhibit of Keith’s domesticity.

Lance squinted out his window grabbed his toiletry bag, “Couldn’t sleep. I’m a little bit lost without you.”

He’d tried to stay strong, but when he sat down for dinner, with all the noise Keith claims he hates but secretly loves playing in the background (a Youtube summer playlist, a disney movie, altogether while Lance sings a different set of music) and not actually being there to complain about it, his brain just went from ‘rest’ to ‘gotta go and fetch my boyfriend from the wild’.

Muffled music came from their line like those playing from another room memes. He recognised the silence as one of those Keith things were he tried not to feel the feelings but did anyway.

Finally, voice raspy, Keith replied, “You, sir, are a dangerous creature with love for claws.”

“Aw, thanks babe, I love being identified with creatures and claws.”

“Sure thing, some people are into that.”

“M’kay, see you in a jiffy.”

“Jiffy is the period of an alternate current power cycle, or the speed of light in a vacuum. Not applicable for boyfriends in a rescue mission.”

Lance smiled wanly, “Yeah, it’s also the reason why I don’t let you near Pidge for an extended period of time. Seems like one night is all you need to follow her into the dark side.”

“See you sooner.”

“A’ight.”

 

 

 

So there he was, driving again after that miserable, quiet, lonely, and ill-conceived ride he had last night. He was picking on a sandwich as dry as could be, and skin a little less perfect than should be. He left one of his moisturisers at home, rats. Look at them, one ugly eating and feeling ugly while the other hides from social interaction in the bathroom. God, they were such a mess without each other.

He finally pulled over, his car rumbling testily after being subjected to rough rocky roads. The afternoon sun glinted from the lake (an actual lake in a camp, look at that), and he grabbed his glasses quickly from the glove compartment. Better end this fiasco.

Turns out he didn’t need the glasses to look a-little-less-like-this-is-all-for-stupid-reasons-like-love, they were kinda more than willing to let Keith go.

Finally, the stall opened and there was Keith, looking a little less paler after being subjected to a natural heat source.

Keith nodded at him, “Glasses, you’ve committed to the lie, I see. Sexy too.”

Lance moved right in the enclosed space, happy to have him back where he could see him. “Like they didn’t practically hand you in on a platter. Good thing though, no nonexistent family member had to be dying.”

“What can I say, people just can’t get enough of me.” Keith pulled his glasses off, _seductively_. The drive here was fifteen minutes, record time. He could totally do it again on the way back to the hotel. Maybe even faster, he was given a motivation.

“I sure can’t.”

They kissed. Long drawn out lip-locks and short little pecks. Everything the movies missed out. Hollywood’s got it all wrong. The best kisses didn’t always happen in mountains, or in the middle of flash mobs, with perfect lighting and sunset in the background. Sometimes they just happened in little restroom stalls, just two people desperate for each other’s presence. Sometimes missing him just made kissing him all the better.

 

 

 

Pidge watched them go with a murderous glare, flipping the bird at them as they rolled out of the trees.

With Keith fast on the wheel and Lance on shotgun, Lance rolled the window down and half meaning to and half because the sun was actually in his eyes, threw on his shades and waved back.

He’ll deal with the aftermath Monday morning.

 

 

 

One decent meal and one heated sex later, Keith was helping Lance pack his stuff (wondering what the hell is the difference between hair mask and hair oil, they both spelled conditioner to him) and asked, “So how did your night go?”

“Worse than passing candles”, Keith begged to differ— “It was terrible. I tried masking the silence with everything you’ve always asked me to turn the volume down on.”

Lance heard Keith chuckling inside the bathroom. “Everything?”

“Yeah, youtube and disney, all that. Pulled out the big guns.”

“And then?”

“And then _you_ , dumb gummy bear, happened to not be there to chew my head out. I panicked. Ran out of the house, just like that.”

Lance could practically hear the grin in his voice. “Just like that.”

He obviously liked hearing that he was horribly incapable of surviving without his boyfriend. Like he hadn’t been wallowing his own lonesome in a stall.

“Wait— seriously?” Keith peeked out of the door and looked at Lance intently. “Like walked out, then and there?”

Lance looked at him curiously. “Yeah… that’s not really the reaction I was hoping for.” More like, the sweet kiss-y kind of reaction.

“Lance. Think long and hard and tell me this, did you remember to turn all electronics off before you went out?”

Oh.

Oh Shit.

He thought long and hard.

“I might… have… not?” He tried for a smile.

Keith didn’t fall for it. Darn it, he was all soft (well, hard down there, but that’s not helping his point) just a few minutes ago. “Might have not? Lance if we get home to our apartment burning— God, I can’t even say ‘I’ll throw you out’ when there’d be nowhere to throw you out from!”

“Or maybe you won’t. Maybe you’ll remember you love me and accept my flaws.”

“Don’t get smart with me. We’re leaving now.”

“Don’t worry, Keith, I didn’t pull your laptop and clothes out to feel a little bit closer to you.”

Keith narrowed his eyes suspiciously, “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Means we should probably haul our asses back home. And quick.”

He figured he’d already pushed his boyfriend beyond his normal level of human decency so why the hell not? “I take shotgun!”

He’s gonna get the scolding anyway, might as well be comfortable while Keith was at it.

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> i really liked the idea of the Lance who farts in the middle of a crisis, and the Lance who looks at the situation then makes up a plan in a bam. no wait-- in a BAM. so here, i execute the actually-serious-when-the-shitbiz-is-down Lance that people tends to forget.
> 
> also, this story is actually from a senior of mine. don't get it wrong, she's one heck of a woman. the 'don't punch me playfully son, punch me like a man' kind of a woman. then she told me that one time she hid in a bathroom stall in a leadership seminar and cried on the phone to her gf like 'im just different form these ppol'. so i put my hand on her shoulder like 'girl, RELATE'. sometimes perky people in seminars are just- scary...
> 
> i'll-i'll try replying to those comments this time. wh-hey! comment if you actly want me commenting back on ur comments! i'll contain myself and try not to be the massive dick (not mega-dick, just massive dick) with my replies.
> 
> ilu guys keep klance runnin and maybe we'll get some *winkwinknudgenudge* in s3


End file.
